


eyes skyward

by moonwalkingdinosaur



Series: Post-weirdmageddon au [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bill sleeps a lot, Fluff, Ford thinks a lot, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Oh god its so sappy, Post-Weirdmageddon, Slow mornings, mentions of the rest of the pinses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 17:53:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12612120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonwalkingdinosaur/pseuds/moonwalkingdinosaur
Summary: For once, Ford allows himself to think kindly of the now. Of waking up slowly, of the person least expected trying to coerce him into falling asleep again. One more plan of Bill Cipher's making he'd put a stop to. With only the threat of revenge being eating the older man's pancakes, Ford felt it a sacrifice he could make.





	eyes skyward

Overtime, Ford noticed how Bill's body temperature seemed to rise steadily, right from the moment he'd arrived in the physical world. The first time the thought hit him, he'd been half a second from writing it down before realising that fact could only be deduced by someone in almost constant close proximity to the subject. His face had heated up as he’d closed his journal. If someone were to snoop in his notes, they'd sure as hell not be able to draw any  _ conclusions  _ about the author himself. And his subjects.

 

Currently, before mentioned subject was lying, still snoozing well in on lunchtime, pressed up against Ford's side with one nimble arm slung over his chest. Stanford had woken about half an hour ago, but let the sleep in his eyes keep him still on the brink of another nap, and so stayed in bed. Bill's even breath tickled the exposed skin his tshirt didn't cover, but it was warm. He didn't mind.

 

He was still completely  _ warm _ .

 

Back before ( _ way  _ before), he remembered feeling his own skin clammy and cold right after regaining his body, after Bill had had his fun with it. His limbs and joints had felt stiff for days afterwards. It seemed as if his body had shut down completely when someone else than him wanted to take the wheel. It had felt - and this was something he could never mention to his dear muse - it had felt temporarily  _ dead _ .

 

After reading Mabel's additions to one of his journals about ‘Bipper’s’ (who had even thought of that name? Tasteless, if you'd asked Ford.) sickly cold skin, he'd of course drawn the conclusion that it was all just Bill's entering a human body reacting and rebounding from something that was too corrupt and didn't belong in a body. Of course. And the first few weeks Bill had been trapped-- Well.  _ Held _ in the shack, the hypothesis seemed to have come true.

 

And yet, now…

 

Carefully, carefully, Stanford found the small of his back where the shirt had rode up over the night (messy sleeper, of course) and stroked lightly with one finger upwards his spine. Almost soundlessly, Bill's breath hitched slightly, but still sleeping. After that, a small squirm against his chest to move away from the offending touch and a small sullen moan that indicated he was waking up.

 

So responsive (but he already knew that), and still so warm. Not even an uncomfortable warm, just a slight rise in average body temperature. At this point Bill was probably already over the human average. And he didn't seem to realise himself at all.

 

“Mm.” came a muffled groan. “Izzit breakfast yet…?” 

 

“Well,” Stanford began, speaking softly as he knew both of them would rather it kept quiet. It wasn't often that they correlated on that particular detail. He squinted over at the owl-clock hanging on the wall. “I think brunch would be more appropriate this late.” He leaned his cheek against the top of Bill's head, getting a mass of hair in his face doing so. 

 

Bill paused, then made another soft noise that sounded an awful lot like “waffles” before nuzzling in his nose into the chest below again. His obvious plan was to go back to sleep.

 

“ _ No _ ,” Ford said, even if a smile was starting to form on his face. “You've slept enough today. Your sleeping patterns won't stand it.” As if they weren't already haywire, Ford remarked in his mind. Bill had recently started taking a liking to naps whenever possible and  _ wherever  _ it seemed possible. After finding him one too many times knocked out in one of the sun chairs on the roof, in the middle of the yard and in various uncomfortable positions in every surface of the house, Ford had told him it was healthiest to keep most of his sleeping hours during the night instead. Bill had looked at him blankly for two seconds, laughed and then changed the subject. Obviously not taking a word of it to heart.

 

“That sounds like something you just made up. Probably to-” still mumbling against Ford's chest, Bill shifted his hips slightly to comfortably lay a leg somewhat possessively over Ford's hips. “-to force me into some- some dumb human construct of why it would be important to be awake during the day.”

 

Ford had to think for ten seconds straight to answer that question. A few instances of opening his mouth to snap back with something smart, he finally said, “Essentially everything is a social construct, but hunger  _ isn't.  _ And out of the two of us, I can very much guess who is going to be a grouchy pain in the ass if he doesn't get his daily intake.”

 

Bill paused. “‘Kay, fine, I see your argument. Go eat some sandwiches or something so I don't have to deal with that.” 

 

He couldn't help the low laugh that came from that comment. It was easy to tell Bill was smiling smugly too even if his face wasn't entirely viable. His own arm instinctively went around Bill again, pressing closer while resting his hand on the other's waist. His thumb started idly caressing the darker skin without really thinking.

 

It briefly hit Stanford how comfortable in his own skin he was at that very moment. Stan and the kids were away since yesterday to go on a “big city extravaganza adventure” in Portland for a few days, mainly for Stanley to stock up on… well, it had changed every time Ford had asked, going from a variety of “special” liquor to renewing his lawnmower licence (a lot of questions sparked the last one, none of which Ford had the energy to hear the answer to.). Mabel had been happy because of the recently opened Tortoise Cafe around the town centre. If it was a cafe shaped like a tortoise or a cafe with live, actual (possibly staffed) tortoises was left to find out. Dipper had firmly stated he'd stay in the hotel room the entire time, since it was the first place with stable wifi they would encounter the entire summer. And just as firmly, he'd been told that no, he was not going to do only that while going on the big city extravaganza adventure. 

 

Stanford had of course been offered a seat in the car, but he'd politely and hastily declined after rationalising the 2.5 points on why it would be a bad idea. 

 

No 1: He'd become accustomed with large crowds while lost between dimensions, but only when he was alone and with no one else to look out for. The still living agoraphobia bubbled to surface and he suddenly felt slightly sick of the thought.

 

No 2: If he went along then Bill would have to come along. (Branching out on No 2.5, being Bill actually staying in Gravity Falls with the only surveillance of Soos. This is only presented as a side note, as it is almost laughable to think about why that might be a good idea.) And Bill should be the last person subjected to big bustling cities and large crowds of innocent people. 

 

So, when they both had watched Stanleymobile putter away down the road from the shack, Bill had been the one to break the silence, get one arm snugly around Ford's middle to look up at him with a certain gleam in his eye, saying; “Now, how do we make the best of our five day vacation?”

 

The answer came quickly when they soon after that dozed off first on the couch, pressed together and blissfully enjoying the quiet house. Waking up and seeing it was already darkening, Ford had resolved in making them scrambled eggs before retreating downwards to his own bedroom. Bill had said that the bed was obviously more comfortable with a certain wiggle on his brow. It would've probably had a better effect if he hadn't said it around a mouthful of eggs, but it made Stanford laugh nonetheless.

 

Which was where they'd stayed, only with the occasional run to the kitchen for toast. The comfortable weight of the smaller person positively wrapped around him was almost enough to convince him to stay there, in that very spot, for one more day.

 

Now, Bill was fully awake and had begun tracing some of the geometrical shapes etched on his skin right by his collarbone. Tattoos from 30 years ago, meant as a token of worship and sacrifice to his dear muse. Back then, Bill had taken one long look at them, burst out laughing loudly and proclaimed how he never thought Ford would actually go  _ through _ with it. He'd kept laughing and Ford had suddenly felt incredibly small.

 

Bill looked at them often now, touched them delicately, and at times placed a kiss on any particular cluster of triangles he decided to really like that day. 

 

It didn't feel belittling, like before.

 

The tattoos still brought a spike of discomfort, looking at the intricate designs stretching over both his arms and parts of his chest, neck and back. He'd gone from wearing them proudly to rather have on a covering shirt for extended periods of time to not be reminded of their looming presence. A lot had happened since then, but they always, always brought the feeling of  _ belonging.  _ To a purpose, unwillingly trapped, belonging to some _ one. _

 

Ford though about Bill, and how he also looked comfortable and calm in his dark and freckled skin. He thought about how things could change.

 

Bill startled him out of his train of thought with an openmouthed kiss to his neck and a hand trying to slyly wiggle its way down his pants.

 

“Already?” Ford sighed pleasantly into the sensation. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence, albeit one that was usually chided and hushed down in fear of either a an excited teen or a grumpier brother would walk in unannounced. But none of those threats were anywhere near at the moment.

 

“Thought you just pestered me about how we'd already wasted the day sleeping,” Bill murmured smugly against his neck. “Thought I'd make  _ something  _ out of it.”

 

Ford couldn't help the content hum rising from him at the soft touches. He forced himself to grab Bill's wrist gently and carefully sit up. His back wasn't what it had been once, the small movement making him wince slightly. “Breakfast first, yes?”

 

Beneath him, Bill's lips pursed, looking miffed about his personal pillow moving away from his post. “ _ Brunch _ ,” he concluded in the end, moving to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, shuffling his feet to steal Stanford's slippers. "And you'd better make me those puffy pancakes of yours!”

 

Now arisen, the midday light filtered through Bill's almost white-blonde hair, crowning his head like a shining halo.  _ How ironic _ , Ford couldn't help thinking, a smile teasing his lips. Bill's back was still turned to him, locks of hair falling over his shoulders to reveal some of the dark kissed bruises Ford had left after their tryst last night. 

 

Maybe Bill wouldn't mind being marked after him, too. 

 

His heart leaping up his throat at that thought, Ford acted on the surge of affection for the wonderfully strange creature in his bed, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing another kiss into the crook of his neck. He felt the air leave Bill's lungs in surprise, and then settle, starting to caress the forearm of the strong hold around him. They stayed like that, neither wanting to move from the mere feeling of each other.

 

_ I love you. I  _ love  _ you. _

 

Stanford never thought those words would leave his tongue, no matter how strong he felt it. Once upon a time, his thoughts hadn't been a free realm to think whatever his heart yearned for, the constant surveillance comforting at the time. There were times of worry, when Bill didn't have to say a word to him, just a quiet knowing that Bill knew and that Bill knew that Ford knew and etcetera. 

 

Now he felt like they talked more than either had the strength for. The first months they'd yelled and bickered and spat at each other the first chance they got. When things changed, when Ford was used to Bill's presence again, they suddenly had civil conversations, started discussing his newest additions to his journals. Suddenly they laughed together again. 

 

In the beginning, he'd always hated himself afterwards.  _ Damn _ him for giving in,  _ damn _ Bill for still having that power over him. Most of all he hated how he was suddenly looking forward to it, wondering what the ex-demon would have to say about his newest thoughts and ideas. He became a constant again, so easily fitting right back into Ford's life. 

 

After a while, the guilt dissipated. It was clear Bill was staying. To a certain degree, it was also clear he wanted to stay. Stanley had said he couldn't see it, but Ford had only smiled, as if knowing something his brother didn't.

 

Lost in thought, he almost didn't feel the poke on his arm, and he looked up to meet the other’s wide yellow eyes. 

 

“What issit?” Bill blinked, looking a little confused. Ford realized he'd stayed in that same position for a while longer than maybe necessary, explaining his perplexity.

 

Suddenly strangely grounded to reality, Ford said nothing for a few seconds. Something to summarize everything he felt, that didn't dismiss the past nor glorify it. That meant exactly what it all cooked down to.

 

“I'm glad you're here.” He said in the end, the honesty of it hitting him. It wouldn't have been true ten or five years ago, but on this moment, he was honest. Out of all the strange, weird creatures and phenomena he'd encountered throughout the years, the mere concept and eventually evolution of Bill Cipher must be one of the most important ones. And likewise with himself, he was beginning to become more and more certain of.

 

Bill raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting anything of that sincerity. That train of thought seemed to leave in the end, when he shook his head and pried Ford's arms from him. “As you should be. I'm a delight.” He hummed self-assuredly, stepping from the bed in the slippers too big for him. In front of Ford, his hands landed on his hips. “Now, I'm hungry. Go get 'em.” 

 

Ford sighed, hanging his head in defeat for a few seconds before complying, moving out of the bed with about half of the same grace Bill showed. 

  
They walked out, heading for the kitchen and into another day of many. Ford knew he was being optimistic, but the future didn't seem fully as bleak as it had before. Well. As long as Bill got his pancakes every morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey! If you were one of the lovely people commenting on the previous fic of this series, I am terribly sorry for taking this long to post another installment. And another sorry goes to this chronologically happening around the end of my timeline. Whoops. Think I missed something in the middle there.
> 
> While there might be more to this au, it will unfortunately be just as unchronological as this. Sorry, again. 
> 
> And now, before you go off about Ford looking a little too happy with the future, do consider that 1) I always write Ford as a fairly single-minded character. His and Bill's history is long, and it will take winding roads. If he's happy, he's happy. With Bill there, it took a little longer to reach that. But when it does happen, it'll surely change both parties involved. Bill in particular. The focus didn't lie as much on him as it did on Ford in this fic, but he still has a journey I have had to think about a lot while drawing up this au. And then 2) this is very very very self-indulgent, I am having my fun and I can only hope you are too. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, kudos and comments and everything else is the most treasured for me. Say hi over at tumblr (@humlors) if you'd like! Peace <3


End file.
